Addiction
by Greenleaf1075
Summary: A short one-shot about a random dark and twisty Templar. Rated M for a reason, I'm just warning you now, haha. Please R&R.


_**A/N:**____Hello everyone! Thank you for taking the time to read my little one-shot, I hope you like it. This is the first time I have ever written a DA one-shot and I hope I did well. This short is still pretty raw, so if there is anything wrong with the piece please let me know and I'll fix it. Also this is rated M for a reason. There are VERY suggestive themes written within, I am warning you now. Thank you again and I hope you enjoy!_

The blue liquid gleamed in the small vial, swishing back and forth in the Templar's calloused hand. The familiar feel of the rippled glass bottle fit perfectly in his old boney fingers.

A small smile crept across his cracked lips as he pulled the cork out of the bottle. That familiar smell made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up with excitement.

_Oh how it smells, how it tastes… That familiar feeling of the liquid sliding down my throat…_

He gazed down one last time at the vial he held in his hand, his smile widening as the glass touched his lips.

The tangy flavor instantly comforted him, wrapping his body in the warm, blue liquid. The Templar shuddered as he swallowed the last bit, wanting, needing more.

Falling back into the large chair that sat behind him, he let the large pillows swallow him up. Swallowed into the cracks of the cushions, he let his body and mind melt away as he heard the distant sound of glass shattering on the floor.

Nothing in the world mattered right now, nothing but his lyrium.

His body felt heavy, even opening his once bright eyes from a blink became difficult. _Mmmm, why open them? Why do I keep this charade up? This is what I want, to feel like this forever, to stay like this and never leave this place._

The Templar's graying head fell back as he allowed his broken and frail body to fall deeper into the abyss of relaxation. Down, down the rabbit hole the once proud Templar fell.

Oh, how he reveled in these moments! The moments where he could just set back and let his body have its desires and needs. A shudder slowly ran up his spin from deep inside the black pit he once called a soul.

Oh, the things he used to do, the things he used to _enjoy._

So many years he spent watching the new youth of the circle. How he used to _fantasize_ about those little elven children. _Oh, their little hands, their pointy ears, how I just want to feel them, to touch them, to have them._

He opened his dark graying eyes to a squint, showing the deep lines that crisscrossed around them. A smirk crossed his cracked lips, a drop of blood falling from the corner as it tore open. His filmed covered tongue slowly slipped out, tasting the warm iron flavored liquid before it escaped its reach.

Closing his eyes and throwing his head back in ecstasy again he let his mind wander back to the good 'ol days; the days when the new recruits looked up to him, when they wanted to be him. Oh, to know those days again! But alas, he has succumbed to his addiction. The burning need, the desire that never leaves has finally taken his black soul where it belongs.

The old man rose as quickly as his failing body would let him from his comfortable chair. Slowly making his way to the small wooden box where he kept his precious vials of blue liquid gold, he fumbled as his boney fingers opened the lid.

Sighing with relief when he finally held the small glass bottle in his hand, he stumbled back to the chair that nearly devoured him before, falling back into the cushions once again.

The old dying man eyed the glass bottle as he swished the blue liquid back and forth. _Only a few moments left, one last bottle and it'll all be over. _

He pulled the cork out and threw it across the dark and dank room, the room where his body would die and rot, left for rats and crows to eat. Throwing back the thick tangy liquid, the Templar closed his eyes for the last time, the last time he would ever taste his desires on his tongue.

_Oh, darkness, take my black soul. Take it where it belongs and let the darkness entrap me forever._

The Templar let his body melt into the chair for the last time. For the last time he had control over what he did and soon there would be nothing but the warmth and comfort of the complete blackness that is his soul.

_**A/N:**__ Addiction is no laughing matter. Over 22.6 million Americans struggle with this problem every day, and they keep getting younger and younger. If you or anyone you know has this problem please call this number 1-877-345-8494 or visit this website drug-addiction. We all just want you to be happy and healthy!_


End file.
